“Why’s
that?”
“She
was stuck in the house, cooking, cleaning, while he was driving around to all
his nonprofits. He told me, ‘Cherish doesn’t like to have fun.’ Then he’d be
like, ‘I’m so glad I’ve got you, Bethy, because you’re so beautiful and young
with that gorgeous figure and you
do
know how to have fun.’ Then, he’d
go off on some religious stuff.”
“He
talked about religion?”
“Like
a sermon in church. Like ‘Fun’s not a sin, Bethy. God made a beautiful world
and if we don’t enjoy it,
that’s
the sin, Bethy.’ ” She smiled.
“That was usually right before he’d unzip his pants. It was like he had
to . . . convince himself what he was doing was okay with God.”
She
waved a hand impatiently. “He’d go off on these long stupid speeches about God
and fun. About God not being a God of vengeance like in the Old Testament. God
was basically this cool guy who wanted everyone to have fun.”
The
Creator as party animal. Hollywood would love it.
Beth
Scoggins emitted a ragged laugh. “It was like he had to convince
himself
he
was a nice person. Then I got pregnant and it was like, ‘
You’ve
got a
problem.’ I think he enjoyed it.”
“Enjoyed
what?”
“Getting
me aborted. On the ride over he was real quiet, but when it was over he was in
a
great
mood. Let’s go out for doughnuts. Like the whole thing was
fun.
”
* * *
I
asked her if she remembered the name of the abortion clinic.
“Woman’s
something.”
“The
Women’s Wellness Place?”
“Yeah,
that’s it. They had all these posters about AIDS and safe sex and making smart
choices.”
“Did
the doctor do anything besides the abortion?”
“Like
what?”
“Blood
tests, a general checkup.”
“No,
nothing. Like I said, she was real fast. Something for the pain before, then
scrape scrape, it’s over, here’s some Midol if it starts to hurt.”
She
shivered. “Kind of spooky, no one was there, most of the building was dark. And
I was by myself. Drew handed me over to the doctor and left. He was parked out
on the street when I came out.”
“Did
you go back for a follow-up visit?”
“Uh-uh,”
she said. “I took the Midols, that’s it. Drew offered me some different pills,
I think they were Demerol. I didn’t take them. I’d been pretty clean and sober
since they put me in the shelter.”
Except
for a Rohypnol to get things going. “Beth, do you know if he abused any other
girls besides Miranda and you?”
“I
never saw anyone, but probably. ’Cause he was like . . . there
was no nervousness. It was like something he was
used
to, you know? And
he had only girls in the house. Why are you investigating him?”
I
turned to Allison. She said, “It’s okay.”
“A
girl he cared for committed suicide.”
Beth’s
eyes remained steady. “How?”
“She
cut her wrists.”
“That’s
terrible,” she said. “That would hurt.”
* * *
I
asked if there was anything else she wanted to know.
“Nope.”
Thanking
her again, I got up and shook her hand. No warmer.
Allison
said, “I’ll be back in a sec, hon,” and walked me out. It was nearly nine and
passersby strolled Montana Avenue.
“As
far as I’m concerned,” she said, “I’ve got no obligation to report because
she’s nineteen. He’s a monster but that’s not my problem right now. She may
change her mind but in the meantime I insist you don’t bring her into any
police investigation.”
“No
argument.”
She
touched my hand. Her lips looked parched. “I need to get back in there. We’ll
talk later.”
“I
can come back when you’re through.”
“No,”
she said. “I’m bushed and I’ve still got two more patients. Tomorrow’s pretty
heavy, too. I’ll call you.”
I
leaned in to kiss her.
She
squeezed my hand and offered her cheek.
B
ack at my office, I found the citations I’d printed
for the Women’s Wellness Place.
The
only full-time physician was the medical director, Marta A. Demchuk, M.D.
Four
hits for her. The oldest, five years ago, was a state medical board listing of
doctors facing legal prosecution or ethical censure. The charge against Demchuk
was billing fraud.
Five
years ago, but she was still in practice. No answer at Milo’s house but I
connected with his mobile.
“Out
on the town, big guy?”
“If
the town’s Van Nuys,” he said. “Just got finished talking to a creepy little
lady doc about the specifics of her gynecology practice.”
“Marta
Demchuk?”
Silence.
“What the
hell
? If you were hiding in a corner, I didn’t see you.”
I
recounted Beth Scoggins’s story.
He
said, “Allison’s patient? Talk about karma.”
“Unfortunately,
she won’t be available for follow-up.”
“Why?”
“Allison’s
protecting her.”
“Maybe
you could— ”
“I
can’t.”
Silence.
“Okay.”
I
said, “How’d you get onto Demchuk?”
“The
more I thought about that clinic the worse it started to stink. Daney gets
minors aborted there, the bills are probably padded, and he’s listed on the
board with a fake divinity degree. I ran the same search you did, found out who
the boss was and that she was brought up on fraud charges. I did a little more
background, learned she’s Ukrainian, had to take the licensing exam three times
before she passed. So now I’m figuring some Russian scam and I call a guy I
know at the medical board. From what I can tell, abortion’s always been
Demchuk’s thing, she started doing it the minute she got licensed. First at
other clinics, also run by Ukrainians, then she started her own place nine
years ago.”
“Women’s
Wellness.”
“The
main wellness is hers,” he said. “It’s strictly Medi-Cal, she’s into high
volume, rakes it in.”
“She
claims to be nonprofit. All those fund-raisers.”
“What
that means is Demchuk filed as a nonprofit and lists herself as an employee.
She takes a huge salary, and the clinic never makes it into the black. What got
her in trouble six years ago was sloppy record-keeping that led to some
duplicate billing. She claimed clerical error, ignorance of what her staff was
doing, got a sixty-day suspension of Medi-Cal billing privileges.”
“Slap
on the wrist,” I said. “The right friends?”
“Her
husband’s a big-time immigration lawyer, contributes to politicians.”
“Hence
the fund-raisers.”
“Hence.
I dropped in on her an hour ago. She’s pulling seven figures but the décor’s
plain-wrap.”
“That
probably tugs at contributors’ heartstrings,” I said. “You found her working
late?”
“The
lights were on and Demchuk’s Mercedes was the only vehicle in the parking lot.
I woulda kept going except I noticed another vehicle parked up the block. White
Jeep.”
“Daney
was
there
?”
“Extremely
there. Chilling in the front seat, eating something, and from the way his head
was moving, listening to music. I circled around and positioned myself half a
block down. Twenty minutes later Demchuk comes out with a girl who’s walking
kind of shaky. Daney gets out of the Jeep, puts his arm around the kid, guides
her in, and they drive away. I recognized her. The girl Cherish was trying to teach
math.”
“Valerie
Quezada. Sixteen years old with A.D.D.”
“Obviously
he likes them young and vulnerable. The thing is, her body language said she
liked him, too. Putting her head on his shoulder. Before she got in the Jeep,
she kissed his hand. And this is right after she’s had an abortion.”
“Beth
Scoggins said his manner was gentle, solicitous, flattering. Until she got
pregnant, then he got stern and broke it off with her.”
“Well,
he hasn’t broken it off with Valerie yet. Meaning even if I could find a way to
talk to her, she’d clam up. Now you’re telling me Scoggins won’t cooperate. I’m
stuck.”
“Beth
said a girl named Miranda was her successor. Anything like that on the foster
list?”
“I’ll
check tomorrow,” he said. “So, Allison’s not impressed by the magnitude of this
asshole’s offenses?”
“Allison’s
got to think about Beth Scoggins’s mental health in the short run,” I said.
“Also, right now, I don’t hold much sway.”
“Why
not?”
“She
saw me in another light and didn’t like it.”
“What
light’s that?”
“Deceptive.”
“A
woman who still thinks men don’t lie?” he said. “Thought she dug all the police
stuff.”
“Until
it got too close,” I said.
“You
really think it’s useless to talk to her again? Maybe in a coupla days?”
“I’ll
play it by ear. Eventually, Beth might decide to go public. Right now Allison
feels it would be too much to handle.”
“
Eventually
Daney’s gonna knock up more girls.”
I
didn’t answer.
He
said, “Fine. Anyway, after Daney drove away, Demchuk stayed outside and lit up
a cigarette. White coat and she’s puffing away. I decided to take the risk,
walked up on her in the dark, flashed the badge, scared the hell out of her,
she drops her smoke, gets ashes all over the coat. But she recovered pretty
fast, got cagey, told me she had nothing to say, headed back inside. I followed
her and she yapped about civil liberties and made empty threats and I postured
right back and eventually we ended up finding some common ground. Because she
doesn’t care for Daney either. Says he’s a greedy fellow.”
“He
gets a kickback? She admitted that?”
“She
claims
nyet,
that was never part of the plan, it was just a mutually
convenient situation. It started when she put his name on the advisory
committee at Sydney Weider’s request. Something about Weider wanting him to
have credibility for a movie deal. Soon after that, he started bringing her
girls.”
“Demchuk
ever suspect he was more than a concerned foster parent?”
“She
denied it, but come on, all those abortions?”
“All?”
“The
agreement we came to was that when I busted Daney I’d do my best to keep
Demchuk’s name out of it. In return, she had to document every Daney ward whose
pregnancy she’s terminated and be forthcoming with other information as
requested. She had it right there in the computer and printed it out for me.
Nine girls in eight years.”
“My
God,” I said.
“Like
you said, Drew’s underage harem. This guy’s beyond bad news.”
“He’s
got the perfect victim pool living under his roof. Abandoned girls with low
self-esteem, learning problems, probably histories of sexual activity. He
impregnates them deliberately, gets a kick out of destroying the fetus. And the
taxpayers pay for everything.”
“Without
getting into the whole when-does-life-begin thing, Alex, he’s basically a
prenatal serial killer, right? What’s the thrill?”
I
thought about that. “Create and destroy. Playing God.”
“Nine
girls,” he said. “And not one of them has complained.”
“He’s
gentle— seductive, not coercive. Ties it in with the whole paternal intimacy
thing. When he moves on to another girl, they think it’s their fault. Beth
admitted being jealous. She dealt with it by escaping.”
“That
place of his,” he said, “main house, converted garage, and that weird-looking
cinder-block building? Lots of construction for a small lot. I was figuring
dorms for the kids. But who knows what goes on there. No way
Cherish
couldn’t know, right?”
“Beth
says Drew delighted in going around Cherish. From petty stuff like eating
doughnuts on the sly to leaving her with the scut work while he took his
‘assistants’ out on the road.”
“Okay,”
he said, “maybe that worked for a while, but she finally caught on.”
“And
started sleeping with Barnett Malley.”
“Her
own brand of sin.”
I
said, “How did Daney’s greed come into the picture with Demchuk?”
“He’d
been hinting around for a while about getting a cut of the action. Demchuk lent
him money to put him off— small amounts he never repaid, she figures three,
four grand total. Recently, though, he’s gotten pushier. Coming out and asking
for his share, outright. Insisting he’s her best ‘referral source.’ Implying he
might go elsewhere. Demchuk’s not the sharing type. And Daney’s timing couldn’t
be worse because Demchuk’s ready to retire, wants to sell the clinic. She was
figuring she’d buy him off with a screw-you payment. I told her selling the
place wasn’t gonna be easy when all the bad stuff about Daney came out. Made
that sound more imminent than it is. Demchuk tried to stay cool but I could
tell I shook her. That’s why she was willing to deal him off. As in handing
over Valerie Quezada’s aborted fetus.”